


Here (With Me)

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [123]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Cold Weather, Drabble, Frottage, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: Milo doesn't fare well in the cold, and yet here he is, in Siberia with Camus. There's nowhere else he'd rather spend his birthday, after all.





	Here (With Me)

**Author's Note:**

> From a batch of prompts I did over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). This was previously posted in a drabble collection 'Saint Seiya: Snapshots’, that I have chosen to take down and post individually for ease of access. 
> 
> (Originally posted 7-6-2017)

Milo is sort of miserable. It’s cold in Siberia, and as much as he loves Camus, he hates it here. He’s bundled up in a sweater and blankets in front of the fire while Camus chops more firewood, and Hyôga is in town with Camus’s sled dog team. He’s going to stay overnight at Camus’s great-aunt’s house in town.

The door opens for a moment, but it’s enough that Milo shrinks into his wool cocoon and whines. Camus drops his armload of wood by the fire and smiles down at him, cheeks red from the cold. Milo smiles wanly up at him.

“You know, you didn’t have to come here, Milo,” he says softly, stripping out of his overlayers and draping them over a chair. Down to sweatpants and a soft blue sweater, he’s gorgeous, and Milo opens one side of his cocoon, hopefully. Camus obliges, curling up with him, and Milo shivers a bit.

“I wanted to be with you for my birthday. I’ve finally caught up to you again,” he pouts at Camus. He’s turning nineteen in three days.

“But wouldn’t you rather be warm? I know you don’t like it here.” He presses, gently, cupping Milo’s cheek with a chilly hand. A shiver races down Milo’s spine and he smiles tenderly at Camus. He leans in, heart pounding, hoping he hasn’t read the situation wrong. He’s wanted to kiss Camus since they were sixteen.

“I’d rather be happy than warm,” he breathes, before sealing his words with a kiss. The world falls away, narrowing down to Camus’s mouth, sweet and receptive. Milo dares to deepen the kiss, his arms slipping around Camus’s neck, his body shifting, settling into the Aquarius’s lap. Someone is moaning, or maybe they both are. They break for air, gasping, and Camus leans their foreheads together.

“Could you be happy, here, with me?” He breathes, and Milo rolls his hips, making them both moan softly.

“Gladly, Camus, gods,” he moans, and they both fumble with their pants, shoving them down enough to pull themselves out. God hormones are awful, but amazing, and that’s Milo’s last coherent thought for a while as Camus wraps a hand around them both and strokes.

“Misha,” Camus breathes, using the Russian nickname he’d given Milo when they were kids, and he shivers at the soft reverence in Camus’s tone.

“Camus, please,” he chokes, hips jerking helplessly into Camus’s grasp. Moments later he’s spilling, head thrown back and Camus bites gently at the long line of his throat as he comes too, and they rest, shivering, in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
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>   * “<3” as extra kudos
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>   * Comments not in English
> 

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End file.
